


the only lonely boy in New York

by thedaughterofkings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Musician Derek, Musician Stiles, Musicians, Pining, Simon & Garfunkel AU, Singer Derek, Singer Stiles Stilinski, Songfic, Songwriter Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedaughterofkings/pseuds/thedaughterofkings
Summary: When words fail him, Derek turns to song.A not quite Simon and Garfunkel AU with plenty of pining and a bit of singing.





	the only lonely boy in New York

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loverofcake (bumbleboots)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumbleboots/gifts).



> A (belated) birthday gift for my dearest [Clara](https://loverofcake.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> This fic is loosely based on Paul Simon's and Art Garfunkel's story and some of their songs, but with quite a few liberties taken obviously. The songs that feature in the fic will be linked throughout, if you'd like to listen along!
> 
> Beta-read by the wonderful [Larissa](https://ohfuckthisshit.tumblr.com)!

The screams are deafening.

 

Derek can’t see anyone beyond the glaring lights, but while the majority of voices are female, there’s quite a few deeper yells, too. He waves awkwardly in the direction of the crowd and the noise level increases exponentially. Next to him, Stiles is waving and grinning madly, panting heavily, as always worn out from the hour or two they have just performed together, more exhausted than their rather sedate stage show should warrant. But then Stiles always puts his all into his singing, his body a part of his instrument, fueling his voice. That’s how Derek has always known him.

 

~*~

 

The first time Derek sees, or more importantly hears Stiles is at one of those inane high school talent shows. Every class had to nominate one representative to present to the school, after holding mini contests in class. Derek hadn’t been chosen for his class; instead of Derek’s rendition of Dylan’s  [ _ The Times They are a-Changin _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afLyjnmYnz0) , his classmates had gone for the Lacrosse Captain and his stick. Pun fully intended. Apparently phallic symbols and some spinning action with them was more inspiring than a classic of American music. Other classes seemed to be more appreciative, though, because up there on the stage right now is a guy from one or two grades below Derek, possibly even in Cora’s grade, tall and lanky, buzzcut making him appear even younger. 

 

He taps the micro twice to check that it’s on, clearing his throat nervously a few times, and Derek expects another of those painfully unfunny comedy routines of which they’ve already had three. But then the guy opens his mouth and sings. And he’s good. 

 

[ _ Here, There and Everywhere _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHLQs6u9wXw%20) by The Beatles isn’t an easy song to sing, especially a capella, Derek knows. But this guy nails every note, even the weirder jumps and the key change in the bridge. His voice is high and light, a striking tenor even now when not yet fully developed. The auditorium actually falls fully silent for the first time that morning just to listen to him and breaks into roaring applause once the last ‘everywhere’ fades away. A bright blush stains the singer’s cheeks pink and he almost knocks the micro over when he takes an awkward bow. A handful of girls sitting huddled together next to Derek actually sigh dreamily and Derek rolls his eyes. 

 

“Give it up for Stiles Stilinski!” the presenter shouts and the ear-piercing shrieks directly next to him make Derek flinch back. The girls are loud enough to make the guy on stage - Stiles - look up at them and for a moment Derek’s eyes meet Stiles’. Derek quickly tries to make his lips form a smile instead of a grimace, though he isn’t sure it works. He hopes it makes for a not too bad first impression.

 

Because one thing is clear: Stiles Stilinski’s voice is the one Derek wants to hear sing his music.

 

~*~

 

Stiles’ hand is sweaty in Derek’s, warm and slightly slippery. They are holding hands for the final round of bows, and as if sensing that this is it, the screams get even shriller. Derek instinctively grips Stiles’ hand harder and Stiles squeezes his hand in return. Somehow it makes Derek feel better, makes it easier to stay on stage until the lights go out and not run away before.

 

But as soon as they’ve stepped off stage, Stiles drops Derek’s hand as if stung by it. Derek’s stomach drops, all the elation from another successful concert suddenly gone. There’s no reason to feel like this; it’s not as if Derek wants to keep holding hands with Stiles - they are both sticky and gross right now and prolonged contact with another human being is the opposite of a good idea right now. But apparently Stiles doesn’t have any problem with prolonged human contact in general - the way he throws himself at Scott in an exuberant hug makes that clear. So it’s just Derek’s touch he takes issue with then. 

 

That hasn’t always been the case. Stiles used to touch him freely, but Derek only noticed how freely and frequently once it stopped. Nowadays the absence of touch is so much more tangible than their actual physical contact used to be back when it actually happened anywhere other than in the public eye. That’s the only time Stiles will touch him now - under the gaze of the public: holding hands to take the last bow, punching him in the shoulder jokingly during an interview, hugging him awkwardly hello if the paps are watching. All in the name of not making anyone suspicious, of not making anyone think they might be anything but the bestest of friends.

 

They are not. Friends that is, and Derek doesn’t know if they ever were. They are not exactly enemies either, and on stage their voices still join in perfect harmony, making Derek think that there has got to be something right between them, something that makes their voices so perfect for each other. But then the lights go out and suddenly there’s this wall between them. It’s a wall of glass; they can still see each other and communicate, but everything is muted and strangely distorted somehow, something keeping them apart that makes it hard for each to understand the other, which creates misunderstandings that just make the wall grow even thicker.

 

Like with the touching.

 

It took a while for Derek to come up with a theory. He didn’t even realise Stiles stopped touching him at first, until he braced himself for a hug backstage that never came, until he held out his hand for a high five that Scott got instead, until he realised that the last time he’d felt the warmth of Stiles’ arm draped across his neck had been months ago. They had not had a fight that could have caused Stiles to pull back, and however much Derek wrecks his brain, he can’t think of any reason for Stiles to stop touching him without saying a word. 

 

But then they sing  [I Am a Rock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKlSVNxLB-A%20) , and for the first time ever Derek notices how Stiles’ voice trembles ever so slightly on the line: “I touch no one and no one touches me,” and suddenly Derek recalls the first time he played his demo of the song for Stiles and how Stiles had blanched.

 

“The lyrics are pretty … harsh, aren’t they?” he’d asked hesitantly. “Like the line about touching, do you really want no one to touch you?”

 

Derek had shrugged, not sure how to explain how he feels in words that are not lyrics. It’s always been much easier to speak his thoughts when he could do it to music. Without it, words don’t come easily to him. Which is why he had messed up that conversation, too. He’d explained how everyone insisted on touching him and how his skin crawled with every new hand on his skin, and he’d meant fans throwing themselves at him without warning, and all the hair and makeup people brushing and dabbing and wiping at him without so much as a by your leave, people tugging off his shirts and forcing him into new ones without batting an eye, all the over familiar pats on the back he gets from rich people he has only seen once or twice in his life who think they are allowed to touch him just because he makes them a load of money.

 

But somehow Stiles must have taken that line to mean  _ him _ .

 

And Derek doesn’t know how to tell him otherwise.

 

How is he supposed to say: I don’t like anyone else touching me, but I don’t mind your touch? How is he supposed to answer Stiles’ questions, which would surely follow, when he doesn’t even know why that is the case himself? How can he ask Stiles to touch him again when he can’t even put into words why?

 

So Derek stays silent and jealously tracks who gets to be touched by Stiles instead of him now.

 

And no matter how sweaty Stiles’ hand might get, Derek holds onto it as hard as he dares and as long as Stiles allows every night for the final bow and treasures those precious few seconds of contact he is still granted.

 

For  _ an island never cries _ .

 

~*~

 

It takes some convincing to get Stiles to sing with him. At first he seems to think it’s just a mean joke at his expense and blocks off any of Derek’s attempts to talk to him. Eventually Derek actually has to beg Cora to help him. She get Stiles into the music room under a pretence, where Derek is already waiting, and quickly locks the door behind them both, leaving them alone in the silent room. 

 

“Is this an ambush?” Stiles asks suspiciously and backs away, brandishing his phone threateningly. “My dad’s the Sheriff; he’s going to make sure you’ll get expelled - or worse!”

 

“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” Derek asks and when Stiles just stares at him blankly, elaborates: “You know, he’d ‘get us killed - or worse,  _ expelled _ ’?”

 

Stiles blinks and then sighs, mumbling something under his breath that Derek doesn’t quite get. It sounds like ‘it’s not fair, you shouldn’t be allowed to be gorgeous  _ and _ a nerd!’ but that can’t be right. He raises his brow in question, but Stiles just shakes his head and asks:

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I want you to sing,” Derek says and thinks that he really should have thought about what to say beforehand. “I mean, I want to sing together with you. I want to sing my songs with you.”

 

“Okay?” Stiles sounds very sceptical and Derek tries again:

 

“I write my own songs, but something’s always missing. I heard you sing at the talent show and your voice is really great and I think we’d sound really good together. I can sing you one of my songs?” he offers as a last resort, because Stiles still doesn’t look convinced. But he does nod, so Derek quickly grabs a guitar and after checking it is in tune, starts playing. He’d been thinking about what song to play Stiles, but hadn’t been able to pick one beforehand, finally deciding to choose one spontaneously. In the end he goes with a pretty new one, which he’d titled  [ _ Homeward Bound _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z9wd9bS1FM) .

 

Derek concentrates on his fingers and his voice, determined not to look at Stiles, so as to not be rattled by Stiles’ reaction, whatever it may be. But out of the corner of the eye he can still see Stiles’ feet and he almost misses the next chord when one of them starts tapping in time. Perhaps there’s a chance that he’ll get his wish after all.

 

When he gets to the chorus the second time, Stiles starts singing along, substituting  _ lalalas _ where he doesn’t know the lyrics. Derek keeps singing the melody until he’s sure that Stiles has got it and as the chorus comes for the third time, he switches to a second, lower harmony, letting Stiles sing the higher main voice alone. For the last line their voice join in unison again and Derek fades out the song with a last few soft strums on the guitar and then finally dares to look up at Stiles again.

 

Stiles’ eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open slightly.

 

“Well?” Derek prods impatiently and Stiles finally gets his face under control again. 

 

“Dude, that was really good!” he exclaims and Derek tries to ignore how genuinely surprised he sounds. “I don’t even know what you want me for; you’ve got it all already!”

 

“No, I don’t,” Derek says, “I don’t have you.” Oh god. He blames Stiles’ eyes being far too mesmerising up close for his current mental malfunctioning. He’d always thought they were just plain brown, but up this close they are not merely brown, but amber, molten gold, and his fingers are itching to devote a song to them. They are very distracting and Derek doesn’t really know how to cope. 

 

His mom has been lovingly calling him a late bloomer, while Laura has made rather nasty plant jokes to go along with it, but the truth is that so far his music has been the most important thing in Derek’s life. He’d just genuinely not been interested in anything or anyone else and had seriously worried about whether he’d ever be able to write a love song that feels true and not fabricated. The way he feels right now could fill hundreds of love songs.

 

Not that he loves Stiles.

 

That’d be preposterous. They’ve exchanged just a few sentences between them and for the first half of their conversation, Stiles accused Derek of kidnapping him. But then they sung together, and Derek can practically  _ hear _ Cora rolling her eyes at him, but singing together tells you something about the other person, and Derek likes what it told him about Stiles. Really likes it. And Stiles’ mesmerising eyes staring at him wonderingly. That is nice, too. 

 

Now if only he could put that into words that don’t make him want the earth to swallow him up immediately after saying them.

 

“Okay,” Stiles says and Derek starts. 

 

“What?” he asks dumbly and Stiles repeats himself:

 

“Okay, I'll try it. But you can't be mad if I'm not as good as you seem to think I am!”

 

“I won't,” Derek promises and he can't hold back the grin that's growing on his face. Stiles grins excitedly back at him and exclaims: “Let's do this!”

 

~*~

 

Derek keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but somehow it never does.

 

Given their admittedly strange start, he expects Stiles to dump him, well their duo, after a short while but Stiles sticks with him. At first they just sing together, Derek writing new songs at a quicker rate than ever before with the sound of Stiles’ voice in his ear. There’s no particular goal they are working towards, no other talent show or concert. But then his mom organises a session in a local recording studio and the manager hears them sing and offers them a record deal.

 

It’s nothing big, definitely not one of the big companies; you couldn’t even call it an indie label; that’s how small it is, but it’s an acknowledgement that what they are doing is good. And it gets Derek his first hug from Stiles.

 

It’s quite absurd in a way; this should be the fulfillment of all of Derek’s dreams; a sign that he’s made it; that he’s a  _ proper _ songwriter now - and it is! He’s incredibly excited and very proud, too, but the thing that sticks in his mind, what he remembers when he thinks back upon this moment is the feeling of Stiles’ arms wrapped around him, Stiles’ excited voice in his ear, and the warmth of Stiles’ body pressed against his. 

 

Music used to be the most important thing in his life.

 

~*~

 

These days Derek doesn’t get a lot of hugs anymore. At least not from Stiles.

 

His family is as touchy-feely as ever, and there’s still far too many exuberant hugs from fans who have no concept of personal space. But Stiles is still carefully keeping his distance from Derek, which is why the sudden embrace in the middle of the studio after Stiles had stepped out to take a phone call takes him by surprise. 

 

It’s over far too quickly, not nearly enough time for Derek to memorise how Stiles feels in his arms, still warm and secure, but stronger now, broader around the back and the shoulders than back when they used to hug regularly.

 

“I got it!” Stiles yells after pulling back, slipping from Derek’s grip as quickly and suddenly as he’d grabbed onto Derek. He’s grinning excitedly, but Derek can just look back at him blankly, completely lost as to what’s going on.

 

“The role, remember?” Stiles says and oh, that. There have been talks of Stiles pursuing acting ever since they truly came in contact with the entertainment industry. Most of it focused on how he has just “such a face made for the camera” and how his eyes would surely be utterly striking on film, and at least half of it had come from fashion photographers wanting to deck out Stiles in the latest craze. Derek had thought to himself that Stiles’ eyes were plenty striking in real life, too, and dismissed all of it as one of the absurdities of the life they were now living. He’d always assumed that Stiles felt the same way, but apparently not. 

 

“Which one was that again?” he asks, wracking his brain to try to remember if there had been any signs he’d missed that Stiles was actually going to pursue acting.

 

“The college comedy, you know, the one partly shooting in Mexico,” Stiles explains and Derek swallows. Mexico? “I’m not first billed, but it’s still one of the main roles. I just hope they know what they are doing, casting me for that,” he adds, suddenly no longer looking excited, but rather apprehensive.

 

“I’m sure you’ll be great,” Derek says, and he actually means it. He hasn’t seen Stiles acting yet, but Stiles has this earnest quality that will surely translate well on film. Stiles smiles at him briefly before his head dips down, almost as if he’s shy.

 

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he says and then continues hurriedly, as if trying to get it over with: “It won’t interfere with our concerts, don’t worry, I made sure of that. But perhaps this’ll give you the chance to start looking for a proper partner.”

 

“Oh.” Derek can’t see Stiles’ face properly because he’s still ducking his head, and he’s just glad that that means that Stiles can’t see Derek’s face properly either, because he no longer has control over his facial expression. ‘Start looking for a proper partner?’ What is that even supposed to mean? Is that Stiles’ subtle hint that he’s going to pursue acting exclusively now, and that now that he’s found his true passion, he’ll discard Derek and his music, like a ratty old bathrobe that’s no longer comfortable to wear?

 

“Yeah, cause you know, I’m not that good, and perhaps you’ll find someone good enough here,” Stiles explains, words tumbling over one another. He still doesn’t look at Derek, but Derek can still see that colour has risen into his cheeks, as if from embarrassment.

 

There's a mess of half written lines in his head, heartfelt words of how he doesn't want to sing with anyone else, how there couldn't ever be anyone better, but all that comes out is:

 

“I - right.”

 

~*~

 

Stiles doesn't mind the limelight. Or at least he doesn't hate it like Derek does. 

 

He never goes looking for it, doesn't immediately jump in front of every camera that's pointed at them, but he doesn't shy away from it like Derek does. In fact, after a while Derek notices that Stiles only ever plays it up for the camera properly when Derek is with him. There’s whispers that he wants the spotlight all for himself, but that just doesn’t ring true to Derek. It’s too malicious for one, and when Derek actually listens to Stiles, he realises that Stiles never talks about himself. 

 

Oh sure, he’ll crack a joke at his own expense, but everything else is anecdotes of his friends and family or praise that is heaped upon Derek. The latter is almost worse to listen to than being in the spotlight himself. Derek doesn't even recognise the man Stiles is talking about sometimes. He sounds like the second coming of Mozart, and with a far better attitude than Derek  _ knows _ he displays on a regular basis. Honestly, it sounds like the man Derek strives to be and it's an eye-opening thought, wondering whether that's actually how Stiles sees him. 

 

It makes Derek try to be that man a bit more every day at least. 

 

~*~

 

Stiles leaves for Mexico on a Wednesday. 

 

He doesn't leave without word, even though Derek somehow thinks that might have made it easier. Stiles leaves with hugs for everyone and muffins for the crew the night before and Derek knows that they've got concerts scheduled for after Stiles’ filming and that Stiles has promised that his fledgling movie star career is not going to affect them, but it still feels like a final farewell, rather than the temporary one it is supposed to be. 

 

Derek is the last one Stiles turns toward and it is impossible not to see that as significant somehow, for better or for worse. He'd like to think it's because he's the one Stiles wants to say goodbye to least, but a mean little voice in his head says that it's because he's the one least important to Stiles here. The thought ties up his tongue and he can't even come up with platitudes when Stiles comes to stand in front of him, smiling hesitantly, but with sad eyes.

 

“So,” he starts, drawing out the word, “I'm leaving tomorrow.”

 

Derek simply nods, because he doesn't think that ‘I know’ is the appropriate answer here. Stiles bites his lip, turning it plump and red, and Derek swallows. There's a long moment of silence between them, heart beats turning into eons, and then Stiles blurts:

 

“Would you drive me to the airport tomorrow? You know I didn't bring Roscoe.”

 

Derek rolls his eyes, relieved that they are in more familiar waters again, and returns:

 

“And what a good thing that was, too. That dilapidated old clunker well deserves its retirement in your father's backyard.” 

 

Stiles gasps and clutches a hand to his chest in what Derek is sure is at least partly true affront: “How dare you? I will not have such blasphemy! That Jeep carried you back when you were a nobody; don't start dissing it now, just because you've made it and are now driving a snazzy Camaro.”

 

Derek feels his cheeks heat up at the mention of his car. It was his first purchase made with the very first proper payout they got for their music and his sisters have never let him live it down. The Camaro is indeed ‘snazzy’ as Stiles put it, and it was utterly out of place in their home town. It fits in better in New York, where they've built a base for in between tours and during recordings, but driving anywhere takes ages and the parking fees are horrendous, so it is still a piece of personal indulgence that brings Derek much teasing and ribbing. It’s nevertheless one of his most prized possessions; a reminder that his music is worth something, something tangible. 

 

It’s also filled with memories of the years past, how it smelt brand new at first and then like curly fries for a week after the very first time Stiles was in it, or of that time when they had their very first gig out of town and had to spend the night in it because  _ someone  _ forgot to book them a room for the night and then moving to New York in the car least suitable to that venture imaginable. Other than Derek himself, Stiles is the person who has spent the most time in this car and it seems fitting to drive Stiles in it this time, too, even if it makes it feel even more like the end of an era. 

 

So Derek swallows back the sudden lump in his throat and retorts: “You're the one asking for a favour here, so I wouldn't be acting all high and mighty if I were you.”

 

In response, Stiles presses his hands together, juts out his lower lip, and flutters his eyelashes. 

 

“Please, sir, could I have some more? Driving around in your amazing car? To the airport, sir, please?”

 

It brings them back to more familiar terrain of banter and teasing once more, making it easier for Derek to smirk and roll his eyes and magnanimously agree to drive Stiles to the airport. It’s not any easier, though, to ignore how much his heart sinks at the thought of Stiles leaving and how much worse it is to be the one sending him away in a way. 

 

~*~

 

Their move to New York had been an experience to say the least. 

 

Theoretically they could have gotten a moving company and a flight, but Stiles wanted to experience “a road trip, Derek! The quintessential American adventure! Just you and me and the road! Imagine all the songs this trip will inspire!” 

 

The only song it inspires in the end is  [The Boxer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3LFML_pxlY%20) , and even there, it’s only the wordless refrain that survives from that trip. There might be a few more song fragments floating around Derek’s apartment that hark back to those long hours in a two small car for the distance, but those certainly aren’t worth revisiting.  _ The Boxer _ only sees the light of day in the end because Derek misses the last train one cold winter night and is suddenly filled with a strange case of homesickness walking the streets of New York. The verses come quickly to him and when it is time to write a refrain, a half-forgotten memory resurfaces.

 

The car had been filled to the very brink, to the point where it had become dangerous to open any doors for fear of being knocked out by a guitar case. That’s what took up most of the space anyways, guitars upon guitars. At least that’s what it felt like. There weren’t even that many; the limited space in the Camaro just made it feel like so much more. Other than that they travelled pretty light, much to the chagrin of their parents. Neither of them had any furniture of their own yet, and it wasn’t as if either of them was very particular about what they were wearing, so their combined luggage did fit into the Camaro somehow. As long as the one currently riding shotgun held the last guitar, everything fit fine.

 

They’d gone through the whole of Bob Dylan’s back catalogue and half-way through Springsteen’s when Derek had suddenly had that little melody stuck in his head:  _ Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie  _ … He’d hummed it and Stiles had only had to listen to it once before he’d started to sing along. Playing around with various pitches and different versions had kept them occupied until they had stopped for their next break. After that, Stiles had started singing show tunes and the melody had slipped from Derek’s mind again until months later in New York when he needed a refrain. 

 

And now every time they sing  _ The Boxer _ , Derek remembers that trip to New York, and being so close to Stiles.

 

~*~

 

Stiles’ flight the next morning is way too early. That’s what Derek blames his hooded eyes and the nauseous feeling deep in his stomach on at least. Stiles is looking entirely too chipper for his taste, bright-eyed and excited, and it makes it hard to swallow, a lump growing in Derek's throat out of all the words he has left unsaid. There's a voice that sounds suspiciously like Laura in his head that insists he should tell him, but tell him what really? I don't want you to leave? I don't want you to pursue your dream? 

 

That's not how Derek wants Stiles to stay, if his words would even make any difference. And he does want Stiles to pursue his dream, to be happy. If that can only happen away from Derek, then he'll smile and bear it. So he remains silent, listens to Stiles’ excited chatter mutely, only offering up the occasional grunt when it is required of him. He knows he's being rude and his mum would be so disappointed in him right now, but Stiles doesn't even seem to notice. Derek doesn't know which thought is worse - that Stiles doesn't expect any better of him or that he's so excited that he doesn't care for anything anymore but the new life he's about to start. 

 

They arrive at the airport pretty quickly, no traffic to speak of at this early hour and Derek chooses the drop-off zone, where you are supposed to move on quickly, rather than one of the actual parking places. He can't risk that Stiles might linger; suddenly a painful, but quick goodbye seems like the only option Derek is going to be able to take. It's like ripping off a bandaid, he tells himself; the slower you go, the more it hurts. Letting Stiles go is only going to hurt all the more if Derek delays it. 

 

Stiles opens his mouth and Derek suddenly doesn't want to hear what he's going to say. It's not going to be what Derek wants to hear anyways, so he hurriedly says:

 

“Have a safe trip.”

 

Stiles blinks and snaps his mouth close again, looking a bit unsure. 

 

“Thank you?” he replies after a short pause. “It's a short flight and someone's going to get me at the airport, so I'm not too worried. Thanks again for driving me this morning, by the way.”

 

“No probs,” Derek says and immediately wants to smack himself. Probs?! “One last time for old time's sake, right?” he adds with a terribly fake laugh and that really doesn't make it any better. Derek is so preoccupied with mentally hitting himself that he almost misses Stiles’ quiet “last time, right" and the way his face has fallen. But that's what it is, isn't it? Stiles is moving on to other, bigger, better things now.

 

Derek can't make himself say as much, though, because he fears it'd just sound too whiny said out loud, so he simply shrugs. Stiles sighs and finally says, looking defeated though Derek can't begin to guess why: “Still, again,  _ thank you _ .” He says it with such heavy emphasis that Derek is pretty sure he's not just talking about a ride to the airport. It makes the lump in his throat return and so he just nods wordlessly. For a moment longer Stiles remains seated, staring at Derek, looking as though he wants to say something else, but then he shakes his head and gets out of the car. 

 

Derek grips the wheel tightly and concentrates on how his fingers are losing colour instead of how Stiles is gathering his bags. He’s so focussed on not focussing on Stiles that Stiles suddenly speaking up again makes him jump:

 

“Goodbye, Derek.”

 

It sounds so terribly final and Derek’s throat closes up. By the time his voice returns, Stiles is already closing the car door and Derek’s “Goodbye” goes unheard.

 

~*~

 

Thankfully Laura comes for a visit the next day.

 

Or perhaps that should be “unfortunately Laura comes for a visit the next day,” because she takes one look at him and shakes her head in that exasperated judgement that only big sisters can pull off.

 

“Oh Der-bear, what have you done?”

 

His grumbled “nothing” doesn’t get him anywhere, because she just raises her eyebrows and says:

 

“Well, that much is obvious!”

 

Something in Derek’s expression must tell her to back off, though, because she switches topics to what’s for dinner neatly, if not very subtly. Derek wishes he knew which glare or tilt of the eyebrow it was that put her off questioning him further; he could have made good use of it for years already. In a strange twist of irony, the first time Laura backs off is the one time when Derek almost wants her to keep digging, to draw it out of him and then to tell him what to do. 

 

He could just ask her for her advice, but if talking about his feelings came that easily to him then he wouldn't even need to ask her for her advice. So he stays quiet and tries to ignore the worried looks Laura throws him from time to time. He lasts more than a day which in and of itself is surprising enough, but then Laura touches upon the topic again, if inadvertently. 

 

“Where is your better half? I haven't seen him in ages! Should we get dinner together tonight?”

 

“Stiles has gone -” Derek says and means to add “to Mexico” but Laura doesn't give him a chance to finish his sentence, her face falling. 

 

“Oh honey,” she says and draws him into a hug. Derek's resistance is mostly feigned and he lets himself be hugged soon enough, grateful for the comfort of the embrace of his big sister, who'd always had his back. Even if she is far too fond of teasing.

 

“I don't know what to do,” he admits quietly after a while and Laura squeezes him gently. 

 

“Talk to him,” she suggests, and snorts when he throws her an unimpressed look. “It's not going to kill you, you know. Talk to him and you might be pleasantly surprised!”

 

It's Derek's turn to snort. 

 

“Laura, he left. He's in Mexico to start a film career and he's not going to come back from that. I don't think there's many pleasant surprises to be had here.”

 

“Did you ask him? Did he tell you that?” Laura asks and Derek shrugs, because, well, it was implied. They said their goodbyes, didn't they?

 

Laura sighs and says: “Derek, you can't just assume that kind of thing! That's what leads to pain and pining; didn't you read any of the fic I sent you?”

 

Derek bites back: “I'm not going to read stories about me and Stiles getting it on in Hogwarts, no matter how ‘ground-breaking’ they are supposedly.”

 

Laura sniffs at that. 

 

“You might have learned something,” she grouses, but switches tactics nevertheless: “Okay, but put yourself into Stiles’ shoes for a turn. Did you give him any reasons to stay? Just as you can't assume to know what's going through his head, you can't assume that he knows what's going through  _ your _ head.”

 

She stares at him intently, as if trying to get it into his head by sheer force of will and Derek stares back, her words churning in his head. Did he assume that Stiles made his choice when Stiles didn't even know there was a choice?

 

“Think about it, will you?” Laura implores and Derek nods. Not thinking about it would actually be the hardest part anyway. 

 

~*~

 

With Laura's words in mind, Derek tries to follow her advice. 

 

He chickens out of just calling Stiles, internally justifying it with not knowing Stiles’ schedule and not wanting to interfere with filming, but if he's honest, he has to admit that he simply has no idea what he'd say, where he'd even start, which’d make a phone call rather pointless. A letter seems much more practical and far more doable in comparison. 

 

But that hope turns out to be an illusion unfortunately. Derek no more knows what to say when he tries to put it down on a page, than when he attempts conversation face to face. Page after page is filled with scratched out sentences, painful platitudes most of them, then gets scrunched up and thrown away. At this point it's only stubbornness and the deep seated fear that this is his last chance that keeps Derek trying. 

 

In the end it's Laura again who comes up with the solution. The day before she's leaving Derek almost hits her with one of his failed attempts when she comes in just as he's hurling another balled up page at the door in a fit of rage. Laura ducks with a yelp and Derek is just about to apologise when she picks up the piece of paper, smooths it out and starts reading it aloud. Then he just wants to sink into the floor. 

 

“ _ Dear Stiles _ \- what is this, the birthday card for Aunt Mildred? -  _ I wanted to talk to you, but you are in Mexico now, so I can't.  _ Phones are a thing, Derek, you've got an obscenely expensive one yourself!  _ I am writing you a letter instead, to give you a choice. _ You make it sound like the mafia - ‘I'm going to make you an offer you can't deny’ - instead of a confession of feelings.”

 

The rest of the letter she thankfully just skims silently before balling it up again and throwing it into the already overflowing bin.

 

“That was  _ terrible _ , Derek,” she says  with feeling and Derek throws his hands up in exasperation.

 

“I know! Why do you think I've been throwing them all away?” he exclaims, quite fed up with Laura and just this whole thing. This was her idea after all, and now she can just mock him. But Laura's gaze isn't mocking, it's determined. 

 

“Derek, what are you good at?” she asks and the question comes so out of left field that Derek has to think about it for a moment. He almost answers with something self-depricating like “being a dumbass" but Laura seems to be serious, so he tries to come up with a serious answer, too. 

 

“Writing songs?” is what he comes up with in the end and apparently it's the correct answer because Laura nods vigorously. 

 

“Yes!” she exclaims and adds: “So stop writing letters, for God's sake!”

 

“But you told me to -" Derek starts protesting before he gets what she's coming at. “Oh you mean I should write him a song instead!”

 

Laura lets out a put-upon sigh, shaking her head, though Derek sees her barely hidden amusement in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and the smile threatening to break out across her face.

 

“Finally he gets it! A song from you is going to be so much more personal than any letter could ever be. And it'll mean more to Stiles, too, I think.”

 

Derek just nods, already distracted by the snatches of music going through his head, fitting together one second, then rearranging themselves, verses, refrain, bridge, until he’s got permutations of the same song warring in his head. The words aren’t there yet, but they’ll be following soon after, he can feel it. Now that Laura said it; it’s suddenly so clear - it’s like a song for Stiles was already inside him, just waiting to be released. 

 

He spends the next few days in a sort of daze, barely noticing that Laura goes home again, wishing him luck one last time. The song is slowly taking shape, line by line, and finally Derek is ready to record it. It’s strange being in the studio without Stiles and Derek earns a few double takes when he comes in, people’s eyes slipping past him as if expecting Stiles to follow right behind and it stings. Less the thought that people might not be interested in him or his music without Stiles, and more the thought that they were so close for so long that to see one without the other is that unexpected.

 

It’s one of the reasons he throws everyone but Boyd out of the studio - he doesn’t want to see any sidelong glance or overhear any comments about where Stiles is. The other main reason is that he doesn’t want any chance of word of this getting back to Stiles before Derek is ready. It’s quite possible that someone is going to tell him that Derek is back in the studio without him, but at least they won’t be able to tell him what Derek is back  _ for _ . Boyd is not only trustworthy, but has a quiet calm that Derek appreciates. He never says an unnecessary word, content to listen instead, but that only makes every word he does say all the more worth listening to. He’s also the best sound engineer Derek has ever worked with.

 

Derek didn’t tell Boyd what he was recording, or why, but he knows that the addressee of the song is going to be pretty clear as soon as he starts singing.

 

_ Tom, get your plane right on time _ __  
_ I know your part'll go fine _ __  
_ Fly down to Mexico _ __  
_ Do-n-do-d-do-n-do and here I am, _ _  
_ __ The only living boy in New York

 

To his credit, Boyd doesn’t bat an eye, just asks Derek to give him one more full run through before they start going through the song bit by bit. They record the instruments first, guitars, bass, drums - very sparsely used because that was always more Stiles’ instrument than Derek’s - and finally a Hammond organ that Derek originally hadn’t been planning on using, but Boyd had suggested. It works out beautifully and is another reminder of why Derek had chosen to work with him on this. The defining characteristic of the song was always going to be the layered harmonies, though, and Derek spends the better part of the day recording the different voices. 

 

It is late in the evening by the time Boyd pronounces that he has everything he needs to produce the song and more or less throws Derek out of the studio, telling him to get some sleep and that he’d have the song cut and pressed for him by the next day. Derek is almost tempted to try to pull rank on him, not ready to give the song out of his hands entirely, but this is Boyd’s territory, pulling rank would have no effect whatsoever, and either way, trusting Boyd to do his job right had been the whole reason Derek had come here. So he reluctantly leaves, resisting the mad urge to hide in some supply closet so that he can listen in on Boyd working.

 

That night is short; sleep only comes in short, fitful bursts of exhaustion getting the better of him and the rest of the time Derek spends staring unseeingly into the dark and mentally alternating between wanting to throw the record away unheard or planning to send it to Stiles without listening to it at all. But when there’s a knock on his door before the sun has fully risen and Boyd, who must have worked through the entire night, hands him a freshly pressed record, Derek does neither. 

 

He sits down with a cup of coffee and listens to his, no, [Stiles’ song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnWETcpOfS4).

 

It’s a painful exercise, listening to himself bare his soul, even if the song isn't technically a love song. There's no talk of roses, stars, or everlasting devotion. It nevertheless doesn't take a lot of reading between the lines to understand where Derek's affections lie. And while that's of course Derek's intention for writing the song, or at least part of it, it doesn't make it easier to listen to it, to wonder whether he should have made it clearer or whether he's being too obvious. 

 

The record itself is more than good enough, Boyd’s work impeccable as always. Derek's voice layered over itself multiple times produces an almost ethereal effect, a cloud of sound that is at once joyful and sad. The dichotomy fits the song's intended message quite well. 

 

Because Derek neither wrote it as a lament on lost love, nor a plea, cajoling Stiles to return to him. The song is simply a question, the choice that Laura said Derek didn't give Stiles. It's meant to say: this is an option that exists, even if you might not have realised it, and while I wish you would take it, it's okay if you don't. Because that's what having a choice is all about - you have to have the option to say no as well as the option to say yes. 

 

There's a wistful sort of hope to the song because of that - the kind of hope that barely dares to hope still, but isn't quite dead yet. It's a pretty perfect representation of how Derek feels about Stiles, so he gathers his courage, telling himself that even if Stiles’ choice remains the same, he'll have at least tried, and sends the record down to Mexico. 

 

~*~

 

The post office tells him that it'll probably take up to a week for his record to reach its destination and who knows when the filming schedule will allow Stiles to listen to it, never mind react. Thus Derek is utterly unprepared for the frantic knocking on his door five days later. Opening it reveals Stiles, rumpled, tired and just a complete mess.

 

He's still the most beautiful thing Derek has ever seen and he really should have realised his own feelings earlier because it's not a brand new emotion. Wilful ignorance must have played a big part in that. Stiles’ voice draws him back to the present. 

 

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice hoarse but insistent, and Derek isn't sure what exactly he means but the answer is the same either way: “Yes.”

 

Before he realises what's happening, he has his arms full of Stiles, a soft mouth pressed against his. It's not as romantic as movies make it seem - the impact makes Derek stumble backwards and almost lose his balance, one of his arms is trapped between their chests and Stiles’ kiss landed more on his chin than his lips, but Derek barely notices any of that. 

 

Stiles is warm against him, a comforting weight in his arms, comforting because it means he is actually here and not a figment of Derek's imagination. Derek doesn't know which one of them moved but now they're pressed cheek to cheek and Stiles’ little sighs tickle his ear. They stay together for an interminable length of time until Derek can't hold back the question that has been on his mind since he saw Stiles standing in front of his door:

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“What am I doing here?” Stiles repeats, pulling back a little, but not entirely, Derek is relieved to note. “You wrote me a song!”

 

“Yes, but I didn't expect you to come back immediately,” Derek admits helplessly. “Aren't you needed on set?”

 

“Oh, they can deal without me for a while,” Stiles shrugs, looking unconcerned. “It's not that big of a part anyways.”

 

Derek frowns. 

 

“I thought it was the second lead?”

 

Colour rises to Stiles’ cheeks and he mutters: “Of course you remember  _ that _ .”

 

But then he steps closer again, hands coming up to cup Derek's face. 

 

“Derek, you wrote me a  _ song.  _ That's the only lead role I'm interested in right now. What did you think I was going to do? Ignore it until filming was over?”

 

Derek ducks his head because yes, that had been one of his fears after all. 

 

“I thought you might call,” he says instead, “and perhaps I'd come to visit you on set if you wanted me to.”

 

Stiles is staring at him with wide eyes. 

 

“Call?” he scoffs. “If you think I'd wait any second longer than absolutely necessary to kiss you now that I finally can, we really need to have a talk, Derek Hale.”

 

He leans forward and Derek's breath freezes in his chest, but then Stiles stops and licks across his own teeth. 

 

“Actually, could I borrow a toothbrush first?” he asks sheepishly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “My mouth still tastes like plane.”

 

Derek nods automatically and says: “Spare toothbrush are under the sink in the bathroom, help yourself.”

 

Stiles smiles gratefully and steps away from him finally. But he's gotten only a few steps towards the bathroom when he seems to change his mind and darts back to Derek, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. 

 

“To tide you over,” he says cheekily and winks before disappearing down the hallway. 

 

Derek stares after him in stupefaction for a long moment before shaking it off. As happy as he is to see Stiles, he's grateful for the breather, the chance to sort out his head. Despite Laura's encouragement and his own desperate hope, he hadn't really believed that confessing his feelings would make any difference. To have Stiles in his flat, in his arms, talking about wanting to kiss him is a bit of a shock to the system, to say the least. A good one, though, a pleasant rather than a nasty surprise, and so by the time Stiles reemerges from the bathroom, Derek has regained his bearings and is all on-board the kissing thing.

 

But Stiles seems to have lost his nerve somewhat in the bathroom, because he doesn't step into Derek's space again, but stops a few paces away. 

 

“Hi,” he says, sounding almost shy. “I think I forgot that earlier.”

 

“Hi,” Derek returns with a smile, wondering how they've changed places so quickly, Stiles now the overwhelmed one. “I’m really happy you are here,” he adds. “I don't think I made that clear enough earlier.” It’s going to take quite a bit of getting used to, actually talking about his feelings, but he’s willing to keep trying if it will finally get Stiles and him on the same page.

 

“I'm glad you gave me a reason to come here,” Stiles replies, smiling back at him. He seems to be finding his equilibrium again and so Derek suggests that they move to the couch. When Stiles passes him on the way there, Derek grabs his hand and squeezes it reassuringly. Stiles jumps at the touch at first, but then squeezes back and uses their joined hands to pull Derek down on the couch next to him. 

 

“So,” Derek finally starts when the silence has gone on too long and Stiles laughs slightly hysterical. 

 

“Oh man, look at us! ‘Hi’s and ‘So’s, is that really the best we can do?”

 

Derek shrugs.

 

“We did almost kiss earlier,” he says with some rather badly faked nonchalance, but it draws another burst of laughter out of Stiles, this one happier and less hysterical sounding.

 

“Oh yes, my lips and your chin, that’s certainly not the first kiss we’ll tell our children about!”

 

It’s just one of those sayings of course, but the idea of even the possibility of children being in their shared future makes Derek bite his lips to stop from saying something terribly sappy. Instead he suggests: “We could give it another try.”

 

“I did just brush my teeth for this,” Stiles agrees, but just like his own nonchalance earlier, Derek can tell that Stiles’ blasé attitude is faked. He’s chewing on his lower lip and can't hold Derek's gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. But somehow, the knowledge that Stiles is just as nervous about the change in their relationship as Derek is, helps with Derek's own nervosity. He's not going to be able to come up with anything more profound than what he already told Stiles through song, so he decides to let actions rather than words speak for him. Stiles was the one who took the literal first step, flying back from Mexico, so it only seems fair that Derek take the final step now. 

 

He breathes in deeply in an attempt to calm his racing heartbeat and turns to face Stiles more head-on. Stiles’ head is ducked low but there's no resistance when Derek cups his face with his free hand and gently tilts it up. Stiles’ eyes are wide and almost unbearably golden this close, his mouth red and plump from where he's been worrying at it with his teeth. Derek strokes a thumb over Stiles’ cheek and watches in awe as Stiles’ eyes flutter shut in response. 

 

It's a sign of such unshakable trust, Stiles with his eyes closed, awaiting whatever Derek decides to do next, that Derek changes tracks. Instead of Stiles’ lips, he presses a soft kiss to each of Stiles’ eyelids first, relishing the way Stiles’ hand twitches in his and how his mouth drops open slightly on a faint gasp. It's an invitation Derek can't resist and he finally touches his lips to Stiles’.

 

With Stiles’ mouth already open, Derek half expects their first proper kiss to turn passionate immediately, but it's little more than breathing each other in at first. Stiles’ free hand has come up, too, and it's wrapped around Derek's neck now, fingers tangled in the fine hairs at the base of his head. A shiver travels down Derek's spine and he presses his mouth more insistently to Stiles who responds by tightening his grip. 

 

After that, all thought gets lost in a haze of heat and touch. They’ll have to have a talk soon, to clear up all the misunderstandings that have piled up, to make sure they are truly on the same page here, and finally to figure out where they want to go from here, but for now all of Derek’s senses get flooded by Stiles, his touch, his taste, the little gasps Derek can tease out of him with a flick of the tongue, his warmth, and just his presence in Derek’s arms. 

 

~*~

 

[ _ The only living boy in New York _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnWETcpOfS4) never gets released as a single, staying hidden away between more attention demanding songs on their next album. It gains a notoriety among their fans, though, which Derek fully blames on Stiles introducing it as “the song written for me" at every single concert. 

 

Despite that they manage to keep their relationship, if not a secret, then at least away from the public eye surprisingly long. Years even, though rumours abound of course, and eventually their relationship is more of an open than an actual secret. Still, they never officially come out to the public and with that also their fans, until  _[Bridge over troubled water](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4G-YQA_bsOU%20) _ is released and they perform it for the first time in concert. This song, Stiles introduces as “this is my,  _ our  _ wedding song and y'all better be prepared to cry like babies! I definitely did!” 

 

They have to restart the song three times before the audience is quiet enough to actually hear it and in the silence afterwards, quite a few sniffles can be heard. It's one of the few songs Stiles sings completely solo and he performs it absolutely beautiful in Derek's unbiased opinion, with an intensity that’s simply mesmerizing. 

 

Derek has only ever once performed the song in public and even then, it was only for one person, the one who’s singing it now. Where  _ The only living boy in New York  _ was expressing hope,  _ Bridge over troubled water  _ is a promise, one he plans to honour every single day for the rest of his life. 

  
  


_ When you're weary, feeling small _ __  
_ When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all (all) _ __  
_ I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough _ __  
_ And friends just can't be found _ __  
_ Like a bridge over troubled water _ __  
_ I will lay me down _ __  
_ Like a bridge over troubled water _ __  
_ I will lay me down _ __  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the songs featured in the fic in order, in case you missed the links or would like to listen to them again:  
> [Bob Dylan: The Times they are a-changing (S&G version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afLyjnmYnz0)  
> [The Beatles: Here, There and Everywhere](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHLQs6u9wXw%20)  
> [Simon & Garfunkel: I Am a Rock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKlSVNxLB-A%20)  
> [Simon & Garfunkel: Homeward Bound](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z9wd9bS1FM)  
> [Simon & Garfunkel: The Boxer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3LFML_pxlY)  
> [Simon & Garfunkel: The Only Living Boy in New York](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnWETcpOfS4)  
> [Simon & Garfunkel: Bridge over troubled water](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4G-YQA_bsOU)
> 
> I'd love to hear what you thought, so please leave a comment below or come talk to me on [tumblr](https://thedaughterofkings.tumblr.com)!


End file.
